


Shore Leave

by used_songs



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-06
Updated: 2010-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-11 12:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/used_songs/pseuds/used_songs





	Shore Leave

Walking, hands in pockets, loose but watchful. Rolling down the sidewalk as the transports whisper by in the endless dusk. Deep breath that stings, it's taking a while to get used to the tang in the air, the edge of antiseptic cleanness that invades your sinuses and worries away inside of your skull, burning brightly behind your eyes. Too clean. Nothing like home. Nothing like the necessary cleanliness onboard either. Like if they keep it clean enough they can stave off entropy.

Endless walking, endless looking, nothing to say to anyone. Looking in order to avoid getting too close, too involved. It's better this way. Emotions will break you, emotions will fuck you up.

Later, on the patio of the rooftop café, funny how they have those everywhere, you look up into the darkness, at the remaining mocking points of light that come from so long ago. When the rain begins to patter down, the other patrons remove to the shelter of the bar but you stay, turning the glass in your hands and watching the stars.

There's nothing worth carrying with you when you travel for so long. There's no reminder of home and the past brighter than the dying light from those distant stars.

You swipe your shore leave card in the reader, take a last slow drink, and then get up. Back at street level and looking for some subterranean darkness, a hole to hide in until tomorrow morning, you prowl until you find it. One spot of dirt in the whole of the elegant city. Inside it's dark and warm and even smoky, like stepping into the past.

When you walk in, a woman peels herself away from the corner where she's standing, walks over, smiles up at you. "How long you here for?" she asks, feigning curiosity to stave off the night.

You smile back. "It's my last night." Lean back against the bar and watch the room distantly.

"Well, then," she replies, "maybe you should try to make it interesting."

You shake your head slightly. "I think I'm done with interesting." But you smile to take away any sting there might be in your words. She shrugs and drifts away.

In the morning onboard you keep your eyes fixed on walls, monitors, the faces of the crew, the task at hand. Not even a glance out the nearest exterior viewscreen. The stars are winking out, while you carry on living, burning with an inexhaustible flame.


End file.
